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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29738226">The Three Kings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_storys_sake/pseuds/for_storys_sake'>for_storys_sake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caring John Watson, Childhood Trauma, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Drug Abuse, M/M, No Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson, Past Torture, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes has DID, Therapy, Trauma, Victorian Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:01:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29738226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_storys_sake/pseuds/for_storys_sake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock realises that he may not be as alone in his Mind Palace as he thought.</p><p>Sherlock has been losing time all his life. He always blamed that on his mind palace, where time just seems to pass faster, and his habit to remember only relevant information. Never would he have suspected that there are more of him. But after Eurus' death his alters, for the first time in their life, feel safe enough to try life on their own and decide introduce themselves to an unsuspecting John Watson.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Awakening of Holmes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Holmes wakes up in the morning, it is the first time that he really is on his own. Up to this point he has always kind of been along, watched from a distance. He has always been detached from the others, but he has never been on his own. It is because they remembered Victor, he muses. Before that, emotion was always a little much, but never overwhelming.<br/>
When he gets up, he is only a little disappointed that there are no clothes in the wardrobe that suit him, but he will have to make do with one of the countless suits that are in there. As he searches a little bit more, he even manages to find a vest to match his sense of fashion. It makes him feel less exposed. It is early in the morning, but then, rising with the sun has always been his habit if he had slept at all, that is. </p><p>He finds his way to the bathroom in the dark, which is somehow familiar and somehow entirely new now that he is on his own. He shies away from the silhouettes in the flat, which he cannot quite place and keeps away as far as possible from all dark corners. He thinks he might even hear a voice coming from the top right corner of the bathroom, a loveless laugh which sounds suspiciously like Eurus‘ and his heart skips a beat. He feels his grip on reality loosen a bit, as The Other One pushes forward. But than he remembers that Eurus is dead, died because of a simple flu, because after years of imprisonment, her immune system couldn’t deal with the outside world. It’s weird, really, that the horror would end so easily. He feels a pang of guilt and he pushes the thoughts away. She was his sister after all, and he ought to love her. The dizziness ceases.</p><p>He manages to turn on the light and close the door behind him. He finally feels safe, now that he has a good view on the whole room and sees that there is nobody but them in there. He opens the cabinet, takes out their product and styles his hair in the way he deems fashionable, sleeked back without a single strand out of way. The Other One hates him for it and Sherlock would, too, if only he new that is was him who styles their hair this way.</p><p>He hears ruffling upstairs and then steps coming down the stairs. He has to concentrate very hard to keep his hands from trembling. This is Watson rising, coming to the kitchen to make breakfast and, as usual, leave an unassuming cup of tea for his flatmate. It has been like this between them ever since John moved back in after Mary's death. Sherlock would never let him know it, but they secretly love this routine, this small act of kindness in the mornings. The familiar sound of the kettle boiling water is what gives Holmes enough strength to leave the bathroom.<br/>
He feels nervous as he emerges and he considers retreating and letting Sherlock take over. Relaxed mornings like this do not require the presence of The Other One, but he isn’t sure if he can stand this without bolting. </p><p>It’s going to be his first meeting with Watson, or at least the first where he is in control. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know Watson, in fact he knows everything about him: he observed from afar at a time where his feelings still mixed with Sherlock's. He knows that Sherlock's genuinely likes Watson, he admires him even. He just can’t love him, not anymore, because that is Holmes’ area now, and sort of always has been.<br/>
When he brings up the courage to enter the kitchen, Watson has already poured them two cups and sat down with his face hidden beneath the newspaper. He seems surprised when Holmes sits down opposite, because he lowers what he was reading and looks at him in disbelief.</p><p>“You’re awake, at this hour?”</p><p>“Quite right, my dear Watson”, Holmes says and takes a sip from his tea. It burns his mouth. He ignores the pain and even manages a little smile. A look of confusion passes over the doctors face but he composes himself quickly.</p><p>“Where are you going then, dressed up like this?” He gestures at Holmes.</p><p>“Nowhere, why do you ask?” Holmes considers his appearance but fails to see anything out of the ordinary. He just tried to match the fashion of this time and he thinks himself very modern looking, after all it is 1895 already. He’s beginning to wonder how Watson can criticize his style when he is only wearing a woolen jumper, when the latter interrupts his thoughts.</p><p>“No lies, you promised, remember? I can always cancel my shift at Barts, so I can come with you.”<br/>
Holmes only stares at him, unsure how to react.</p><p>“You shouldn’t keep cases from me, you know. I thought we’ve agreed on that.” Watson's face is soft, but he keeps clenching his hand. Holmes thinks he can see a shade of accusation in his eyes. He remembers that fist in his face, even if it was technically not him to receive that blow, and it all just gets a little bit too much. He retreats to his mind palace and lets Sherlock take over.</p><p>---</p><p>Sherlock opens his eyes and finds himself sitting at the kitchen in clothes that feel uncomfortable on his skin and sort of… wrong. He remembers going to bed last night, after his eyes had begun to burn from staring in the microscope for to long, but as he looks around it seems to have been a dream. After all, he is still sitting on the kitchen table, only the missing microscope indicates that there has time passed between last night and now. John is sitting opposite to him, eyeing him cautiously. </p><p>“You alright there?”, he asks and Sherlock can hear the concern in his voice. “You just blanked out for a second.”</p><p>“Of course, why wouldn’t I be”, he answers and tries to keep his ton as nonchalant as possible. Truth to be told, he is everything but okay. He cannot remember how he got here, which he blames on his transport acting without his permission while he was in his mind palace, but he somehow senses that there is something more to it. He runs a hand through his hair which, would John be more observant, would be a dead giveaway to his nervousness and it comes back sticky. He catches sight of himself in the cupboard behind John and sees the horrible state his hair is in. Without second thought and suppressing the fear that shoots coldly through him, he rises from the table. He has to get this stuff out of his hair.<br/>
John's worried voice follows him on his way to the bathroom, but he ignores it, partly because he really isn’t in the mood to talk right now, partly because he has no idea what is going on. It scares him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had to do some research on DID for school and I started to see some similarities to the trauma that Sherlock has been through as a child.<br/>I do not, however, have any personal experience with the subject, the portrayal of DID is mostly taken from Matt Ruff's "Set This House in Order" and "Sybil" and the other medical book I've read on it. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong in the way I describe it or accidentally have used offensive terms.<br/>Also English isn't my first language, so please forgive me if I make stupid mistakes. Your help would be appreciated.</p><p>I hope you enjoy this fic :)</p><p>Not beta read.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Startling case</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A case brings back old fears.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As weird as the day has begun, it gets better fast. By lunch, Lestrade calls and ask for their help on the investigation of the death of a young woman. Sherlock, who has been battling his own insecure thoughts the whole morning after he had showered and redressed, is up and gone in a minute, his coat drifting after him in its usual manner. John is barely able to keep up.</p>
<p>After a ride in a cab whose driver had no regards for speed limits they meet the inspector at the door to the victim’s flat. He looks like he is barely able to keep himself from vomiting. To John that is a bad sign. He knows Lestrade and what he is able to deal with. It must be a gruesome sight. Sherlock doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.</p>
<p>“Thanks for coming here”, the inspector says weekly. “It’s really terrible. I don’t know who would be able to do such a thing.” </p>
<p>“What do we know?” Sherlock asks without regard for the state Lestrade is in. But then again John knows that this behavior is usual for him and it has proven to be useful on many occasions.</p>
<p>“Young woman, about thirty-five years old. Been living alone for a while as far as we know. Apparently the murderer was driven by rage. She looks quite bad.”</p>
<p>‘She looks quite bad’, was the understatement of the year, John thinks as he entered the flat. She looks like she was kneeling before some non-existing god. Even in this position he can see that half of the woman’s face is missing, after what looks like her having been dragged around the room brutally. There were bloody stripes on the walls.</p>
<p>“My good”, John mumbles quietly and tries not to imagine what it would be like, being murdered that way.<br/>Sherlock barely takes notice of the woman. Instead, he is focusing on the back wall of the room, in front of which a rugged sofa is standing. Some moments later, he is on the ground, fishing something from beneath the sofa, or so it seems.<br/>Suddenly Lestrade is next to John, watching him with curiosity. </p>
<p>“What is he doing?”, he asks incredulously. John shrugs.<br/>Sherlock whirls around and answers the question for him. “Finding the evidence that you lot have seemingly deliberately overseen. Really, it is that obvious, you can’t actually have missed it.”</p>
<p>“Sherlock”, John says in that warning voice that he has reserved for the moments when Sherlock is showing off. (Sherlock finds it somehow amusing; Holmes loves it.) Sherlock sighs dramatically.</p>
<p>“Well, you have been surprisingly right concerning the emotional state that the murderer was in, if just at the beginning. Obviously he has dragged her around the room in rage, but then he felt the needed to demonstrate the higher position he was in compared to her, so he placed her in this kneeling position. From that it is easy to deduce that he is either overestimating himself or has a low self-esteem, with which he’s coping that way.”</p>
<p>“So he murdered her to boost his self-confidence?”, Lestrade asks. Sherlock looks at him disappointedly which makes John smirk a little bit. He would never admit it, but he looks forward to the brilliant deductions that Sherlock will rattle down now.</p>
<p>“Of course not! Maybe it was a contributing factor, but that wasn’t his motive. This was.” He holds up a photograph which shows two people. One closely resembles the corpse, the other one obviously is her daughter. The photo has an odd size, as if somebody had cut off one side.</p>
<p>“Don’t you see it?”, Sherlock asks them with little hope that they actually do. He waits some moments and then accepts that he will have to lay it all out for them. “The person who is cut off in this picture is not only the murderer you’re failing to find but the father of this little girl. Now if you let me investigate the dirt on that wall, I might even be able to tell you more about where the father hides the little girl.”<br/>John has to admit that at a second glance, there are in fact some lines of dirt on the wall, as if a bunch of such photos had been hanging there for rather a long time.</p>
<p>“There is a daughter? The father has the daughter?”</p>
<p>“Obviously”, Sherlock says, annoyed by the stupidity of the DI, and scoops some of the dirty lines into a small plastic back. “I’ll call you when I find something and expect you to do the same”, he says to Lestrade and starts to rush off. Halting at the door he then turns around. “You’re coming John?” It isn’t a question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They return to 221B where Sherlock proceeds to sit down in front of the microscope to further investigate the dust. John makes tea, one for Sherlock which will probably go cold untouched and one for himself, then he sits down with some files he needs to check for his next shift at the hospital. He hates having to do work at home, but then he rather does it here than sitting around at Barts for longer than necessary. Due to their shared costs for living, he has been able to reduce his shifts to a minimum but he still has his duties. That way he has more time for going <br/>investigating with Sherlock which he prefers over work anytime. </p>
<p>Luckily Sherlock never has had any regard for him doing his work so he never hesitates to interrupt him at exactly the moments when John hopes he does, so he has an excuse to get away from his work.</p>
<p>“The father has been holding his daughter captive for about six months”, Sherlock states. John sucks in a breath. That is a terribly long time.</p>
<p>“How do you know?” </p>
<p>“The dust on the wall is about six months old. There are also some traces of red cord in it, so the mother has probably tried to investigate on her own in a very old-fashioned way. She really thought that drawing some lines between pictures and notes would lead her to find out where he hides the girl… From this I conclude that her daughter has vanished at about the time where she put up the photographs and that the father has threatened her in case she calls the police; so she had to try to find her on her own.”</p>
<p>“Brilliant”, John says and Sherlock tries to hide a smile. “But why murder her now?”</p>
<p>“Maybe he has just gotten nervous. Maybe she found a trace to his location, maybe he just happened to see her somewhere to close to his hiding place while she was taking a walk. It could have been anything really. I suspect that he went to her flat, saw the evidence she had collected and got angry. He has probably ripped it all off and taken it with him. He just left the photo because it doesn’t fit into his narrative where it’s either them as a happy family or just him and his daughter.”</p>
<p>“And what are we going to do now? Do you have any idea how we could find him?”</p>
<p>Sherlock looks very unhappy with the response he gives, “I’m afraid that we will just have to wait for Lestrade to find something.”</p>
<p>“Fine, I’m going to order something to eat then.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Domesticity ensues as they both sit down in their respective chairs reading, a novel in Johns case, a book on beekeeping in the other. Holmes feels safe enough to come out again. He is a bit disappointed at what he is wearing. He feels under-dressed and messy but as most of the day has already passed, it would be weird to change now. After he has taken a look at John who is still wearing that horrible jumper, he doesn’t feel so bad anymore, though. He doesn’t stir or draw attention to himself of course. He enjoys the moment as it is, and he loves the book on beekeeping. Mrs. Hudson has given it to them at Christmas. Holmes has watched as Sherlock has read it again and again until he basically knew the words before he would read them, but it is the first time he gets to read it himself. </p>
<p>When their food arrives, Holmes feels courageous enough to get it himself while John is quick to set the table. He doesn’t even have to say anything. They get along without words.</p>
<p>During dinner conversation flows easily and Holmes finds himself laughing a lot at John mimicking mothers at the hospital who make a fuzz about their absolutely healthy children. More often than not he has to draw his gaze away from Johns because if he let himself, he could stare at Johns smile and listen to him for hours and hours without interruption. John sitting opposite him doesn’t look away once.</p>
<p>It is all peaceful and fun until he hears his phone buzz. That is an anachronism. There exist no mobile phones in the late 19th century.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Sherlock doesn’t have to wait long for news from Lestrade. He picks up the phone and talks to the detective inspector shortly. They have been able to track the father and stormed the flat, but there is no sign of the daughter. They need Sherlock to investigate the scene. In his excitement Sherlock deliberately misses the fact that John and he have somehow moved from the living room to the kitchen. He looks up from the dinner that he does not remember to have eaten.</p>
<p>“Let’s go.”</p>
<p>Outside of 221B Sherlock hails them a cab and tells the driver an address in Soho. During the cab ride John thinks about how differently Sherlock behaved at dinner to now. He seemed restrained, shy even, but eager to listen to John’s boring stories. Now he is just staring out of the window, seemingly lost in thought. But then, John is used to that. He is probably just going over all the details in his mind palace trying to figure out which alternatives there are to the flat of the father when it comes to hiding the kidnapped girl.</p>
<p>The flat is the lowest one in what looks like a century old unstable building and John wouldn’t be surprised if it just crashed to the ground right then and there. The police have already secured the crime scene and one of Lestrade’s minions lets them in. The inspector himself greets them on the inside of the flat. It is cramped, the curtains are drawn and the dimmed light comes from a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There are only two rooms, a curtain divides the kitchen from the bathroom. The other one appears to be the living room and bedroom at the same time. The father must have slept on the sofa and the only other to pieces of furniture are an old TV set and the wardrobe. The walls in this room are naked, unpainted and dirty.</p>
<p>“You must have been wrong”, Lestrade tells them, “there’s nothing indicating that the girl has been here.”</p>
<p>“Wrong”, Sherlock answers proudly. “Don’t you see the empty packages lying of sweets lying around everywhere? A grown man would never eat that much sweet stuff. But he was messy so he forgot to get rid of the waste. She must be here somewhere. Probably in the cellar. Otherwise we would hear her.”</p>
<p>“But there isn’t a cellar to this building” says Lestrade in confusion. “We’ve checked but this is the lowest it gets. There are no stairs going down from here in the stairwell.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but this building is old”, Sherlock interrupts him, “The cellars were linked directly to the flats in the basement when they built this. The entry must be here somewhere.”<br/>He checks the kitchen and bathroom for several minutes then he abandons the first room and devotes all his attention to the living/bedroom. As usual, John follows suit and watches him fascinatedly. There really isn’t much else he can do when Sherlock is absorbed by the work like this. It doesn’t bother him.</p>
<p>Sherlock pays special attention to the sofa and the TV and avoids the obvious. All grows cold inside him when he has to face the wardrobe at last. He so desperately wants to be wrong, but then people never have any new ideas, do they. After C.S. Lewis had written his books on Narnia, where the children enter another world through the wardrobe – Eurus had loved the books, Sherlock despised them – many had picked up on the idea of it as a door. The noises of the world fade into the background as he gets nearer to it and he feels dizzy and nauseous. From far, far away he can hear John calling his name but his words don’t reach him. </p>
<p>He opens the wardrobe and he doesn’t even need to push away the back wall or any clothes. It is nearly empty and he can see stairs leading down into the dark. At the bottom of them he spots the girl. She wears only dirty rugs, she is cowering and rocking back and forth. She holds herself with thin arms. It smells like human waste and fear and desperation. She shies away from the light coming from outside of the wardrobe but then, as if sensing that this isn’t her father coming for her, she courageously raises her head and looks him in the eye. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Sherlock is gone so fast that the transport is without supervision for a moment. But before it can go limp the runner catches it and flees from the scene.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you have any questions on what happened in the story so far, feel free to ask me in the comments. There will be an explanation on DID in a few chapters but I'll link a website in the next one, for those who are interested.</p>
<p>I'll just keep writing as long as my creativity is with me :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Remember Redbeard?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Something is off with Sherlock's memory.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John is startled when Sherlock turns around on his heel and runs away. At first he suspects that he has found some clues on the location of the girl but as sets off after him he can hear Lestrade shout that they have found the girl and will need an ambulance. Something else then.</p>
<p>The longer he follows the sprinting figure in the distance, the clearer it gets that this isn’t their usual chase where they run after a criminal or some evidence that Sherlock has found. At least in the second case, Sherlock would be waiting up for him matching his steps with John’s shorter ones. It also doesn’t take John long to figure out where he is going. Apparently, the mad bastard is aiming for running all the way back to Baker Street. Still, John is way too worried to let him out of his sight, so he just keeps running after him.</p>
<p>Only a few streets away from 221B Sherlock lowers his speed enough for John to catch up to him. But when he places a hand on his shoulder, Sherlock just looks at him fleetingly without any sign of recognition but traces of fear in his eyes. He shakes the hand off and starts running again. John decides to give it up and instead follows him with his eyes. There is no point in running anymore because he can already see the shop next to their flat and Sherlock hasn’t changed his course so far.</p>
<p>But John’s worry has morphed into something uglier and bigger and more paralyzing. He is afraid. When he had just looked in Sherlock’s eyes it was as if he had looked at a stranger. Maybe this is what keeps him from running. He is afraid of what he will find when he arrives home.</p>
<p>When Sherlock reaches the door he doesn’t bother using a key. They mostly forget to lock it and if they don’t, Mrs. Hudson kindly opens it for them as Sherlock and John both have a tendency to forget about the existence of keys. John watches from the other side of the street as the door closes behind him, fiddling nervously with the zipper of his jacket. He dreads entering. It is already dark outside and its getting cold but John just stands there, waiting for a sign of life from his flatmate. It stays dark inside the flat. For anybody else it must appear as if nobody was at home. Sherlock hasn’t made any light, almost as if he was hiding.</p>
<p>Sherlock's reaction to his touch earlier has deeply unsettled him. He cannot put in words what exactly he is afraid of. Fed up with not knowing what is going on, John decides to head in.</p>
<p>He walks up the steps to 221B slowly, making sure that they creak with each of his steps to inform Sherlock of his arrival.</p>
<p>He needn’t have bothered because when he enters and turns on the light Sherlock doesn’t even notice him. He is sitting on the ground, knees drawn close to him, arms holding him in place. His whole posture is so unlike Sherlock that it makes John frown. His face shows signs of concentration and something else which John cannot quite place. He keeps mumbling shreds of phrases to himself that remind John of the song Eurus used to sing.</p>
<p>“Save one, save all, come try” is the first that John can make out, followed by “Succour me now”, “Why, nobody will” and “inside, brother mine”. The order is all upside down, he realizes; after all, John doesn’t think he or anyone who was at Sherrinford will ever forget that song. But the melody is all wrong, dissonant and arhythmic, which makes it sound odd and creepy.</p>
<p>He lowers himself to the ground until he is on the same level as Sherlock and carefully comes nearer.</p>
<p>“Sherlock, are you alright?” Sherlock doesn’t move, but he ceases to repeat random phrases of the song.</p>
<p>“Can you hear me?” He receives a nod in response.</p>
<p>“Can you tell me how I can help you?” No reaction.</p>
<p>John rethinks their day searching for something that might have provoked the breakdown or whatever this is. They went to that flat in Soho and found the kidnapped girl. It is obvious that something about the scenario has triggered Sherlock and led to him fleeing to safety, but John can’t think of anything out of the ordinary. They have dealt with various kidnappings in the past, even some where the victims were children. But most of these cases took place before…</p>
<p>“Is this about Victor Trevor?”, John asks cautiously and at the same time knows that he is right.</p>
<p>Suddenly Sherlock snaps out of the state he is in. He raises his head in a split second and his piercing eyes meet John’s.</p>
<p>“Victor? What’s he got to do with anything?”, he says in a tone that indicates John is being absurdly stupid. Then he gets up from the ground and stretches. Within a few seconds he has morphed from devastated to convincingly normal.</p>
<p>“You remember him, don’t you?”, John asks because there is this nagging feeling inside him telling him something is off here.</p>
<p>“Don’t be daft, of course I remember him. Why wouldn’t I? Different from most of the morons out there I actually remember friends after I lost contact to them.”</p>
<p>This is supposed to sting, but John is long used to being insulted for having an average brain. So what if he lost contact to all of his friends from school? He has Sherlock now.</p>
<p>What makes him grimace, still, is the fact that he cannot be sure if Sherlock is purposefully being irritating or if he actually started to forget about his childhood friend again.</p>
<p>“You’re sure you know who he is?” John would rather double-check than risk missing something although the annoyed glance Sherlock shoots him prevents him from asking again. The uncertainty is still there but he knows it is pointless to keep repeating himself because as Sherlock always so eloquently puts it, he “loathes repetition”.</p>
<p>It does nothing to deflate John’s worry. He decides to take drastic measures. He goes up to his room, closes the door to make sure his flatmate cannot listen in on him and calls Sherlock's archenemy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After John has left, Sherlock paces from the living room to the kitchen and back again. Mrs Hudson will complain about it later saying that he will walk a hole into her ceiling, but he just cannot sit down right now.</p>
<p>How the <em>hell</em> did he get from the flat of the kidnapper in Soho back to Baker Street. He didn’t even blink between the change of scene. One moment he was looking at the newly orphaned girl – the sight makes him shiver all over again – the next thing he remembers is John asking him about Victor Trevor. How did John get there so fast?</p>
<p>Sherlock is used to losing time, it is hard to remember a time when he didn’t lose track of it. But it ceased when he grew up and after that it only happened when he was high or far gone in his mind palace (or both). In the latter case he has always blamed it on his transport moving on his own accord to fulfill its need, but lately he isn’t so sure of that anymore.</p>
<p>Never <em>ever</em> has it happened during a case. While working he always stays focused, aware of all his surroundings. He catches every minor detail; he can even tell if the victim has changed their toothpaste last week in some cases. So how could he have missed the whole way back home? Why did he even leave the crime scene in the first place?</p>
<p>Then there is the incident from the morning. What was all this strange clothing about? Also, he cannot think of any reason to do such a dreadful thing to his hair. John looked confused, too. Did he say anything weird to him? There isn’t any reason why he would behave this way subconsciously.</p>
<p>This train of thought won’t lead him anywhere, he realizes. It is as if he has gone finally gone mad. There are no studies on the long term consequences of the usage of the mind palace technique with former drug addicts, or are there? He will have to look it up later.</p>
<p>He knows he is behaving ill-tempered towards John who just wants to help him, but how is he supposed to tell John what is going on when the world has started to spiral off its axis.</p>
<p>He flops down on the sofa, preparing for rolling in on himself and diving deep into thought to figure this mess out; but then he reconsiders and grabs John’s laptop. There is no sense in wasting more time.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long until he is interrupted by Mycroft calling. With a sigh Sherlock puts away John’s laptop. He didn’t find out much about the studies but some of the websites he found grated some unwanted truths. He discarded the theories they had to offer.</p>
<p>“Hello, brother mine.” As always Mycroft greets him in his most annoying voice when he picks up the phone.</p>
<p>“What do you want?”, he hisses through grit teeth. One could have thought that the events at Sherrinford had done their bit to bring them closer together but the tense dynamic between them remains. Also, Sherlock is having a rough day and he plans on letting his brother suffer with him.</p>
<p>“I’m just checking in on you. After all, you fled that crime scene rather… over-hastily.”</p>
<p>“And what? As you are obviously still prone to tracking my whereabouts you must have realized that I do that rather often”, he bites back.</p>
<p>Mycroft is quiet for a while which is almost never the case, except when he is nervous. He doesn’t want to ask the next question, Sherlock realizes with surprise, but rather feels obliged to do so.</p>
<p>“Do you remember <em>Redbeard</em>?”, Mycroft finally asks after the silence had seemingly begun to stretch into eternity.</p>
<p>Sherlock feels anger well up inside him. This is the second time today somebody is asking him about his childhood. It is John’s doing, he is sure of that. He has betrayed him and called Mycroft instead of talking it out with Sherlock himself. The anger grows into fury. Why do things always happen out of his control? He is so sick of it!</p>
<p>He hangs up on his brother without saying goodbye.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for your comments! They made me incredibly happy. I read them in the morning and I jumped out of bed and did a little dance. </p>
<p>As promised, I found a page which explains DID as well as Dissociative Disorders in general. I can't promise that is a hundred percent accurate as most of the information I found on the matter on the internet contradicts itself in some points.<br/>Here it is: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/dissociative-disorders/symptoms-causes/syc-20355215</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Other One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This might not even be John's first encounter with them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When John comes home from work the next day, he is greeted with a strange sight. Upon entering the room and making his way to the kitchen to put away the groceries he had bought on his way, he sees Sherlock lying on the sofa on his back in a posture so slack that it reminds him forcefully of the various times when he had been using. The first to buttons of his shirt are open, exposing his bare chest, his silken skin illuminated in a way that makes John gulp. He is apparently smoking two cigarettes at once and he’s got his eyes closed. John had always thought Sherlock had stopped smoking a while ago, at least after the incident with Culverton Smith. But according to the smell in their flat he had already started smoking in the morning and hasn’t had a break since then.</p>
<p>Sherlock only moves to grab John’s hand and prevent him from taking away the two half empty packages that are lying next to him.</p>
<p>“Sherlock”, John says in a warning tone, but it isn’t the one he uses when they are on a case; this time he sounds rather worried and ready to fight Sherlock on the spot if he doesn’t let go of him. Sherlock releases his hand and John takes the packages and throws them in the bin. Then, he positions himself in front of Sherlock so that the latter cannot ignore him.</p>
<p>“What’s up with you, Sherlock? You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”, he asks.</p>
<p>“Sherlock in’t here. He’still angry with you, y’know?”, the latter responds in a voice that is oddly high and strangely articulated compared to his usual way of speaking. Also, he doesn’t take the two cigarettes out of his mouth which makes his words hard to distinguish.</p>
<p>“Please Sherlock. I’m sorry that I called Mycroft, I should have talked to you, but I was worried. But this is unfair.”</p>
<p>“Don’be stu’id. M’not Sherlock”, he mumbles and closes his eyes again.</p>
<p>“God, Sherlock, would you <em>please</em> take the cigarettes out of your mouth? I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” Which might be not the fault of the mumbled speech but rather of the nonsensical content, John thinks to himself. Sherlock complies and puts them out on the cover of the book lying next to him.</p>
<p>“I’m obviously not Sherlock. To be honest, I’m surprised you can’t see it. But then, I probably must forgive you, as you have only ever met me when we were on drugs and the lines are always a bit blurred when we’re high.”</p>
<p>“Sherlock, I know you’re angry, but this is beneath you. Would you please stop, so we can talk about it like adults.”</p>
<p>Sherlock sits up abruptly.</p>
<p>“As I said: I am not Sherlock!”, he hisses and glares at John. “Now would you please get out of my way?” He gets up and retrieves another package from behind the cushion of John’s armchair. John only stares at him in disbelief.</p>
<p>“Who are you then, pray tell?”, he says sarcastically, fed up with Sherlock’s antics after a long day of work.</p>
<p>“Holmes refers to me The Other One, which is stupid because he mentally writes it in capital letters. A tad over-dramatic, if you ask me. Sherlock would probably call me Moriarty. One has to go to great lengths to get his attention, even in his mind palace.” He lights the next cigarette and sits down again, gesturing to John to sit down himself. “Especially in his mind palace”, he adds after a pause.</p>
<p>“You’re making no sense”, John says, but it doesn’t sound so sure anymore.</p>
<p>“Sherlock looked it up on your laptop yesterday. I even left the tab open so you would find it”, the stranger on their sofa says and looks at him smugly.</p>
<p>The premonition hits John violently when he remembers the website that greeted him yesterday when he opened his laptop to write about the case of the kidnapped girl. He thought Sherlock had looked it up for a case, but it makes so much more sense this way.</p>
<p>“Dissociative Identity Disorder”, he says flatly. Not-Sherlock smirks and even has the audacity to wink at him. John did read the website, but only fleetingly so as not to be completely uninformed on the matter, but he could only remember so much. Something about the identity splitting due to trauma during childhood. He’ll it look up in detail, right after he has finished this strange conversation and ensured that Sherlock gets to be the one in control over his own body again.</p>
<p>“New you’d see it. You’re so much more accepting of the facts than he is. Sherlock, I mean. Went completely nuts when he saw the evidence and drew the right conclusions. He didn’t believe any of it of course. He managed to convince himself that” – he mimics Sherlock's deep voice, which sounds weird because he does sound nearly, but not entirely like the Sherlock John knows – “‘oh no, not me, I could never be a multiple personality, it’s just the mind palace and the drugs’. He always blames everything on the drugs. But they’re so much fun. I’d never have had any happy memories without them. But of course he had to become <em>clean.</em>” He spits out the last word like a curse.</p>
<p>“So you are Moriarty?”</p>
<p>“Me? No, not really. It’s just a role I played to gain his attention. Back when we were on the plane after the murder of Magnussen. That was not me who murdered him, by the way. I don’t always want to take the blame for everything.”</p>
<p>“Aha”, John states and desperately tries to think of something more intelligent to say.</p>
<p>“I don’t suppose you could leave me alone so I could smoke the rest in peace?”, Neither-Moriarty-Nor-Sherlock asks as he flops back down on the sofa.</p>
<p>“Actually, no, I don’t”, John says decidedly, but he goes up to his bedroom anyway to retrieve his laptop from the nightstand for some further research.</p>
<p>When he comes down again, Not-Sherlock says without moving, “You know it has no sense to wait for him to come out again. He won’t as long as someone of us is still angry with you, and even if he isn’t, I really am.”</p>
<p>Which is discouraging, it really is, because John had hoped for Sherlock to come out again so they can discuss the matter and find a solution, as they always do. There is this… someone on the couch who should be a stranger to him, but somehow isn’t. John knows this side of Sherlock’s personality, he has seen it whenever Sherlock was high. It is easy to blame his moody behavior on the drugs, but as John thinks it over, he can see no reason why it should not have been another identity. Because John can’t remember when Sherlock was really angry and hurt and has shown it in this outrageous way when he wasn’t on drugs.</p>
<p>This part of his personality didn’t push forward just because Sherlock was angry, he realizes. John has seen Sherlock getting mad with people including himself at various times. But when he was hurt, he usually turned to drugs. When John had married Mary, when he refused to talk to Sherlock after Mary had been shot. John clenched his fist and tried to push away the guilt that came with the memories. And now he had betrayed Sherlock again, talked to his brother behind his back. Standing alone, it wouldn’t be that big of a mistake, but after all they have been through it seems unforgivable.</p>
<p>“I can see that you’re trying to deduce why I’m angry with you with my eyes closed”, the person on the sofa claims, “and I think I’m going to help you out a bit. I think it was really unjustified of you to beat us up. You made Sherlock blame himself for the death of your wife and you had no right to do so, as there was absolutely no reason to it. Still, you took your anger out on him and <em>as always</em> I am the one who gets to carry most of the memories. It was pointless of you to beat us up, but of course Sherlock didn’t defend himself and I am the one who had to take it. I can’t see why you don’t feel horrible about yourself, because I do."</p>
<p>And John does, too, but he does his best not to show it, but he can sense that this person doesn’t like him and would take even the tiniest hint of weakness and use it against him. He must keep calm. The only thing giving him away is his right hand repeatedly clenching and unclenching itself.</p>
<p>“I know what you’re doing”, he says instead.</p>
<p>“Really. Enlighten me”, Not-Sherlock says sarcastically.</p>
<p>“Mhhmh. You’re trying to drive me away so you can go out and buy drugs. That’s not going to happen.”</p>
<p>“Oh, so I’m going to have a babysitter. Hilarious! Next thing I know you’re going to go round calling yourself Mycroft!”</p>
<p>John ignores him in favor of looking Dissociative Identity Disorder up on the internet. He finds some stupid pages claiming that people with DID are just possessed by demons or that they make it up to get attention. Then, on the fifth page he finally finds some real, medically correct explanations.</p>
<p>
  <em>The dissociative identity disorder is a division of identity that occurs due to severe trauma in childhood or adolescence, usually because of physical, psychological or sexual abuse. This results in two or more alters, which were dissociated from the original personality in the experience of the traumas, i.e. split off. Often, there is both a primary identity and different sub-identities that can develop from the dissociated personality’s components. This emergence is possible through the imagination of the child, who imagines that someone else experiences the trauma instead of it, so that an alter ego is created that takes on this role.</em>
  <em> Because of this dissociation, there are several independent ones instead of a coherent identity, which take turns in having the control of the body. Certain identities may surface in certain situations, for example if they are responsible for certain emotions. While the primary identity still has this emotions, they may feel it not as strongly. These sub-personalities do not necessarily know each other. This leads to unexplained blackouts for those affected, causing complications in everyday life, for example when they learn about things they are supposed to have done, but which they cannot remember. This usually leads to psychological instability, in the form of feelings of guilt and depression, as well as difficulties in dealing with feelings.</em>
</p>
<p>John often has to stop while he is reading because the symptoms described fit Sherlock so well. At times he seemed to deprived of emotions that people actually got scared. Never John of course, because he always knew Sherlock was capable of emotions just as everybody else. But if this was true and there was an alter responsible for anger would explain why he expressed it so strongly.</p>
<p>As he reads on, the text explains how the split identity only takes place with certain types of people and how it is supposedly mostly creative people who develop this disorder, even if it isn’t proven. For a moment John wonders if this can be true, as Sherlock is always so rational and more scientifically oriented. But then he thinks of how expressive his play on the violin is and how the man has literally created a whole palace in his head and it doesn’t seem so far-fetched any more.</p>
<p>And while it explains so many things, John desperately wishes that he is mistaken. They hoped that the chaos would be over now, but it only seems to have started. Why didn’t he meet the other personalities earlier? There he was, finally thinking he had fixed his friendship with Sherlock again, hoping that it may become… more; only to realize that there was this other identity who still despised him for what he had done. Who could have been cruel enough to do this to Sherlock in the first place? Hasn’t he suffered enough? And Sherlock doesn’t even know of his alters, he probably just thinks he is going crazy when he resurfaces and so much time has passed. What if he is trying to leave his mind palace right now but is trapped in there? John puts away the laptop and takes a look at the unmoving person on the sofa. He appears to be sleeping as he hasn’t made the effort to light another cigarette. He looks exactly like Sherlock when he sleeps. Maybe he will wake up in the morning and it will be Sherlock talking and they’ll find a way to figure out this mess. John should probably go to sleep. But then again, it might be the other one trying to fool him so that he leaves so he can sneak out and buy drugs. John can’t let that happen, even if that means he has to stay here the whole night.</p>
<p>He takes the novel he started yesterday from the stack of books where he left it and begins to read, silently watching over Sherlock’s sleeping form.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For the explanation of DID I basically took the text I wrote for school and translated it to English, because I'm lazy. If there are any mistakes feel free to correct me.</p>
<p>Otherwise, I hope you've enjoyed the new chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Her</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not-Sherlock does not wish to leave.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They end up staying like this the whole night. She is awake before the birds start to sing the next morning and she watches the sun rise, golden light pouring through the window and making John’s skin glow. If she wasn’t so angry with him, she would admire his beauty in that moment, as the dim sunbeams cast shadows of his lashes on his cheekbones. He is still asleep and looks more peaceful than ever. If she wasn’t so angry with him, maybe she would leave a faint kiss on his cheek and wake him with making tea.</p>
<p>But he has hurt her so many times, he has hit her when she was lowest but worse than that, he had abandoned Sherlock time and time again. She can’t stand Sherlock, but when he retreats to his mind palace, she has to face the outside world and deal with all the shit he can’t handle. She is always left to do the dirty work. It is just so unfair!</p>
<p>And then they took the drugs from her to, the only way for her to gain access to Sherlock’s happy memories, as the lines blurred when they were high. Of course Sherlock was faced with all the bad memories he had pushed on her so he kept on taking all kinds of stuff. One time she had to prevent him from mixing a small dose sulfuric acid with lemonade as he hoped it would give him some relieve. Only in the last moment had she been able to stop him. He didn’t want to kill himself, but he was obviously not thinking clear. Luckily when she had started, he mostly stuck with the drugs she had laid out for him.</p>
<p>They are always fighting for control of the body while they are co-existing, which makes their movements uncoordinated and jerky, worsened by the chemicals that blocked their neuroreceptors. Of course, when Sherlock is alone in the body, he moves with an unearthly grace that she can only dream of.</p>
<p>She moves about messily when she is alone, too, a trait owed to the fact that the body does not match her inner sense of self. When she went out to see her dealer yesterday, she bumped into all sorts of things, including Mrs. Hudson, whom she had to help to clean up the mess she made of the tea and the cake. The old lady was the only one that she genuinely liked, without bearing old grudges towards her. The bit with the kidnapping and trapping her in the trunk she enjoyed as it felt like being the victim in some crime, which was a new experience, but mainly because Sherlock was in it, too. It was a moment of malicious joy for all the things she had had to take.</p>
<p>Right now, she is laying gracelessly on the sofa, legs crossed, head propped on a pillow, smoking two cigarettes at once. She wishes, as always, that the body would be more feminine so that she could at least pass as a woman if she really tried. But she had and it didn’t work. She wishes she had the looks of Irene Adler. She had tried it once in Sherlocks mind palace but he had barely spared her a glance and what was the use of looking fabulous, when nobody was there to notice it. She had presented herself to Holmes, too, who had complimented her in his typical way, half of his mind lost in thought, so it didn’t count.</p>
<p>She had tried all kinds of disguises, but Sherlock never took note of her, as if he could sense the truth but tried to avoid it at all cost. Except when she presented as Moriarty, so she did, and she had found that she enjoyed it. Everything was better than her true form. She wishes that she could have met Moriarty in person – they would have gotten along way better than him and Sherlock. It would have been fun, she was sure of that.</p>
<p>She has closed her eyes again, but even like this she can hear John stir awake. It is somehow sweet, that he has kept an eye on her so she wouldn’t harm the transport, but it is utterly useless all the same. John will have to get up and leave the house some time in the future and she will finally be able to take the drugs. Unfortunately she has hidden them under the cushions of John chair. In case he feels compelled to search the flat, it would be the place where he looked last and she would have the time to hide them somewhere he had already looked. It has worked in the past. It doesn’t matter. John will have to leave eventually to do the shopping or for work.</p>
<p>It is a pity that the first time John had seen her for real, sober and on her own, it had to be the part of her she hated most. The runner and she have a bit of a Peter Pan situation going on. They are sewed to her like Peter’s shadow, feeling and knowing the same things, but while she is the “rational” one, they act on their own and are always driven by fear and despair, as they are rather instincts than sentient. It is detestable. She can only be glad that right now, she is the one in control. She cherishes the anger as it is the best of multiple terrible options.</p>
<p>In his chair, John is gradually wakening up. Once he remembers why he is here, in the living room with her instead of sleeping in his bed, he is wide awake.</p>
<p>“Sherlock?” he asks hopefully, but once he smells the smoke rising from the cigarettes his face drops. “You’re going to die of cancer one day or lose a leg if you keep this up, you know?” he says accusingly.</p>
<p>She ignores him in favor of taking another deep drag.</p>
<p>“We can’t go on like this forever”, John points out, “so what if…”</p>
<p>“Oh I can”, she interrupts him dismissingly, although she knows very well she cannot. The cigarettes can only do so much to calm her and keep the memories at bay. If she cannot get to the drugs soon, all the emotional pain and agony will crash down on her like a tsunami and she is afraid of what she will do to escape it. What she fears most are the flashbacks.</p>
<p>If only John would finally leave! But at the same time she fears the loneliness. She would have liked someone to comfort her; but John has made it clear hates her and if he gets to close he will probably hit her again. Everybody hates her, even in their head Holmes only tolerates her and Sherlock still refuses to acknowledge her existence.</p>
<p>And then there is John, only waiting for her to leave. He looks at her as if she was some kind thief who has stolen Sherlock’s body. It is so terribly unfair!</p>
<p>She decides she doesn’t want to take it anymore. If she is going to wait for John to leave, she can do it in their room as well, where nobody is silently accusing her. She gets up in what is meant to be a smooth motion but she miscalculates the proportions and twists her ankle. Trying not to flinch she makes her way to their room with all the grace she has left.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” John calls after her but in her opinion he doesn’t deserve an answer. The door bangs shut behind her.</p>
<p>Oh how she hates this body! It is all lanky and sharp, not a single soft curve to be found. She looks at her reflection in the mirror at the wardrobe with loathing.</p>
<p>But then she remembers. She has hidden in below a loose floorboard. Nobody, not even Sherlock, knows it was there. Well, Mycroft probably does, but she doesn’t owe him an explanation and he would never dare to bring it up in a conversation because then he would have to admit that he is spying on them even in their bedroom. She wonders if he knows that she exists.</p>
<p>She locks the door and retrieves the dress from its hiding place. Once she has put it on, it is easier to examine herself. It does something to lend soft lines to their angular body. She looks beautiful, she thinks, only still not the kind she is after. She wishes that she could tear the outward layer of skin apart and find a female body beneath it. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that.</p>
<p>If she was in control all the time, she would do something to alter her appearance. But as things are, she is sharing the body with two men, who make it impossible for her to do so.</p>
<p>Still, seeing herself wearing the dress leads to the releasing of serotonin in their brain which makes her feel slightly better.</p>
<p>She knows that she cannot keep this up for too long. Once the feeling of anger and hurt have receeded enough, her duty will be done. Sherlock will push forward and take control of the body again without knowing that he is forcing her back into the mind palace.</p>
<p>If only she had a female body, if only she was allowed to have some happy memories, if only she had a live of her one without all the shit that happened in the past. It is so very unfair!</p>
<p>---------------------</p>
<p>It is late in the evening when Sherlock leaves his room again. John has not left the living room except for going to the kitchen to make several kettles of tea and prepare the dinner which is still sitting on the table, untouched. He has been worried. Now he is looking up from newspaper and meets Sherlock’s eye. Something is different in the way Sherlock carries himself, John recognizes and hopes he is not mistaken. He is wearing the same clothes he had when he left the room, only they look rumpled now, as he had put them on in a rush without bothering to button them up all the way or straighten out the creases in the fabric. John is able to catch a glance of the bare chest beneath it and struggles to breath for a moment.</p>
<p>“John”, Sherlock says determinedly, and John intuitively knows that this time it is him. He sounds as desperate and afraid as John has rarely seen him. He wants to walk up to him and take him in his arms, to kiss the worry away, but they are not like that, so he doesn’t. Instead he tries to show it with a gentle yet concerned glance.</p>
<p>“I think there’s something wrong with me”, whispers Sherlock.      </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I' terribly sorry it took me so long. I have no really valid excuse.<br/>I'll try to answer some of the comments within the next days.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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